Five Words
by dharmamonkey
Summary: A short one-shot revealing Booth's reaction to those five life-changing words: "I'm pregnant. You're the father." Told from Booth's POV.


Spoiler for 6x23. A quick oneshot inspired by "The Longing in the Waiting" by _hilarycan'tdraw_.

_**Note: **I don't own _Bones.

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><p>"I'm pregnant," she said.<p>

For a moment—several unimaginably long moments—my entire world stopped. I couldn't even think.

"You're the father," she added, as if there were any doubt.

Of course I was. There was never a flicker of doubt in my mind that this child was mine. _My child. _I was going to be a father again. _Our child. _With Bones—the dream, the hope that I'd had for years, even when I'd tried everything not to nurture that hope, was that someday, she would be the mother of my children.

I felt a smile spread across my face as warmth and love and joy washed over me. Bones was pregnant with my child. In that instant, I felt I had everything I had ever wanted in life. _Bones. _I loved her with every fiber of my being—more than I had ever loved anything or anyone in my life—and this child, this wonderful little child of ours, was a miracle, and in the moments after learning of her existence, I knew I loved her. _Her. _I don't know why, but even then I had a feeling that this child was a daughter. It was as if the universe had spoken to me, and—

She looked at me, at my smile, and she smiled, too. A short laugh escaped her lips. "Why aren't you saying anything?" she asked, her voice wavering a little.

"Wow," I said. A million thoughts and images seemed to be racing through my mind—all of them wonderful—but in that moment, it was as if I was struck dumb.

I looked at her, standing there on the edge of the sidewalk in that hideous red cotton dress and black leggings that the FBI had given her for our bowling alley undercover assignment. The dress had a low scoop-cut neckline, and I smiled, recalling how I'd asked her to wear the chunkiest necklace she had to distract me from starting at her chest while we were on the case. _Those breasts. That body. Pregnant. With our child._ Her body was carrying our child, and those wonderful breasts of hers would soon be nourishing our child. _Our child._

"It's wonderful, Bones," I said, pulling her towards me, cradling the back of her head in my hand as she nuzzled into my shoulder and began to cry.

"Shhhh," I whispered into her ear as I stroked her hair. My nostrils filled with the smell of her shampoo, a swirl of ginger and coconut, finally no longer concealed by the tacky perfume she had spritzed on before we went to the bowling alley.

I kissed her temple. "It's going to be okay," I assured her. "We can do this."

She pulled away, and my heart stopped again for a fraction of a second.

"I know, Booth," she said, her voice somewhat firmer and stronger than it had been just seconds earlier.

I nodded, pursed my lips and smiled, but said nothing. I recognized a twitch in her cheek that told me she was thinking, processing, and that it was best to give her a moment to react.

She glanced down at the ground and smiled awkwardly, then looked back up into my eyes.

"It's just not the way I thought it would happen," she said quietly, nibbling her lower lip.

"I know, Bones." Her face carried an open expression, as if she didn't know what to say or feel. "Bones, this is the happiest day of my life," I told her. "This is wonderful news. The best."

She continued, as if unprepared to respond to what I'd said to her. "It's not that I didn't want—" I saw her glance to the side as she collected her thoughts. "It's not that I didn't want to have a child," she said, "or a child with you—you know that."

I did. Although I told her she could have my stuff—my sperm—to have a child, I spent much of the last couple of years grateful that she had not gone ahead with the insemination. I wanted to see Bones be a mom, but I wanted her to have a child where the father was an integral part of her life—not just the child's life. I swore that, if I was going to be a father again, I would not be an absentee father, either for my child or for that child's mother.

"I just—I just thought we'd have more time to just be _us,_" she said. "It's just not the way I thought it would happen, Booth."

"Bones, some of the best things in life happen in ways you don't expect them to," I said to her.

I thought back to that night, the night we conceived this child. We were both grieving the loss of Vincent, each in our own way, and I'd insisted she spend the night at my apartment, not because it would be physically safer for her there—Lord knows, Broadsky knew where I lived, since he'd broken into my place before—but because I didn't want her to be alone and because, quite frankly, I didn't want to be alone, either. She slept on my couch, and I in my bed, although neither of us slept much that night. She came into my room before five, her eyes red-rimmed with tears and dark circles under her eyes, her face exhausted and drawn. We talked, she cried, and I comforted her, holding her in my arms as she sobbed for the loss of her favorite protege. Then, after I'd kissed the top of her head, she'd lifted her face to mine and kissed me on the lips. It happened so quickly after that, neither of us really able to articulate the reasons why we wanted it, but unwilling to stop. Making love to her that night, it was amazing and unexpected, incredible and life-altering. But it had not happened the way we thought it would. Of all the images of that night that play through my memory, one in particular moves me each time I think of it: the sight of my hand, pressed into the mattress as I'm on top of her, the room silent but for the sound of her moaning beneath me, and as I glance at my fingers spread apart on the sheet, I see a brown smudge beneath my thumbnail.

It was dried blood. Vincent's blood.

Indeed, some of the best things in life don't happen the way you expect them to. Our coming together that night, and this child, were just one example among many over the years that Bones and I had been partners.

"Bones, we've never done things the way they're usually done," I said with a slight grin. "But we do them better than anybody—you and me, you know. This is no different."

She smiled, and I felt the tension fall away from my shoulders.

"We can do this," she said quietly, nodding.

"Yes," I said. "We can do this."

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><p><em>Please don't read and run.<br>Please review! Good, bad, indifferent or insulting.  
>Any review is better than no review.<em>


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